Dean
by Ghost in the Corner
Summary: Castiel, one of the greatest generals in all over Egypt, comes home with a new batch of slaves. Among the slaves stands a man who will not only change Castiel, he will change everything.
1. Chapter 1

"Once, many ages ago, there was an Egyptian named Castiel. He lead armies of men as a general for the pharaoh, Chuck. He was a proud, strong man, bred to one day lead Egypt as king. But of course, things did not go according to plan.

"He led our armies to Nubia. Nubia neighboured Egypt, to the South. And somehow, before anyone can remember, our countries went to war. And, with the Gods watching over us, we quickly started winning the battles. And, when we would take a new piece of their land, we would take the bounty with it. Their food, their buildings, their people. We were soon the more powerful of the two. Yet with all of our might, we could never have stopped the one person who destroyed us. Dean.

"Of course, this story was long ago. Long enough that it and I are all but memories."

Meg put her hand up against the glass and smiled warmly at her reflection.

"My father, the Pharaoh always told me every story was a love story. No matter how long, no matter how many are involved, no matter its age. There is always love. And he was right. Every story is a love story. Sometimes, the love appears in different places than you'd expect. That's what happened to me, so long ago."

Meg's smile faltered and she dropped her hand to her side. She looks around calmly at all the people who were passing by.

"When Castiel went on his final trip to Nubia, he had ruined us all without knowing it. He had won many battles there, and retrieved all of his bounties. Part of that bounty was Dean, a Nubian man. Castiel would never have known it, but capturing Dean had changed the course of history." Meg closed her eyes and smiled, thinking about Castiel and how amazing he was. "It became one of the greatest love stories ever told."

* * *

Castiel had swung down from the ropes, pulling the mast onto its correct course. 18 months he had been stuck fighting for Chuck in Nubia. But it would all be worth it when he got home and got to have a decent meal.

He looked down at his map. Just a few more hours going north on the Nile, and he would be home. Home to his fortune, his family, his valour, and his bride-to-be.

"Keep on course! We should be in Egypt before sundown!" He shouted to the man steering the ship as he hopped onto the deck. The man nodded, shouting a "Yes, sir!" in response before returning to his duties.

Smiling, Castiel wandered to the side of the canoe and breathed in the fresh river air. It was the one thing he was going to miss about all of this. His father was probably going to lock him down for the next year. He stared at the water, twisting his amulet between his fingers.

All of a sudden, the ship came to a halt. Looking around, Castile saw as his crew scrambled onto the shore. Curious, and a little angry, he followed them. One by one, they came back onto the ship, dragging Nubians of all kinds back on with them.

There was many of them. About thirty total. Castiel watched each one of the animals closely; they seemed like filthy, scared beasts. It was obvious from their heavy breathing that they had tried to escape them. But they were found by the best men in all of Egypt. Nothing could outrun any of his crew.

He slowly approached, scanning the Nubians as he did. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

"Sir!" Castiel turned to see his second in command, Balthazar, saluting him. "We found them along the river bank."

He kept moving around, watching them with careful eyes. He had always been trained to see every little movement, every little detail. Nothing could take him by surprise.

"Bind them." He said after a moment. "Make sure they can't escape. We don't want them getting anywhere but the pyramid."

As he turned away, the Nubians shrieked as his men put them in chains. He started to walk to the mast to adjust it when he heard swords clacking, a loud thud and more panicked yelling.

And when he turned, a Nubian man held Balthazar by the neck with a sword. The man locked eyes with him, glaring defiantly.

Castiel smirked. Intriguing.

"Let him go." He said, deadpan.

The man leered. "No."

Castiel raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

The man's glare deepened. "You heard me."

Now he was mad. He started approaching the Nubian. "What gives you the right to-"

"What gave you the right to take us from Nubia? Our home?" The man growled.

Castiel stopped in his tracks, surprised. He has never seen a slave stand up to anyone like this, especially not their masters. He stopped in his tracks and huff.

"What is your name?" Neither of them moved a muscle.

"Dean." He answered after a moment.

"Okay then, Dean. Answer me; why do you have this man bound?"

"I could ask you the same thing about everyone behind me." Dean stood his ground, puffing his chest out like a protective bird. Impressive, though not intimidating.

"We captured you. You are now our slaves." Castiel took a step closer. "Now answer my question."

"I captured him. He's now my slave." Dean retorted, smirking. "Now release these people."

Castiel half-smiled. "You're interesting. I've never seen a slave like you before."

"Yeah, well, there ain't no one else like me."

Stepping forward, Castiel drew his blade and held it at Dean's head, right between his eyes. Now Dean flinched. Smirking, he pressed the tip into his skin, hoping to draw a little blood.

"This blade was made by the gods themselves. It was passed down from king to king since the beginning of time. I suggest you drop that sword and free my soldier."

Reluctantly, he stepped back, letting the sword clatter to the ground. Balthazar stood straight and dusted himself off before slapping Dean. As he fell to the ground, Castiel took another moment to look over him.

"Take the prisoners below deck. Make sure they're locked up tight." He said, keeping his eyes trained on Dean. When one of the men went to grab him, Castiel stopped him. "All except this one. I want to speak with him in private."

Dean glared up at him, not daring to move.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel looked down at Dean as the man struggled to get to his feet. He was stout, broad shoulders, bow legged, strong jaw line. If not for the dirt covering him from head to toe and the rags he was wearing, he just might've been handsome.

When he was finally standing, he puffed out his chest and lifted his head in an attempt to be intimidating. Castiel chuckled. It was cute to see someone so helpless try so hard.

"Follow." He said. He turned around and walked over to the edge of the ship, where the buckets were. One was full of water, another upturned.

He picked up a nearby rag and soaked it in the water. Dean was standing a few feet behind him, still trying to look intimidating.

"You can drop the act. It's not going to work." Castiel announced. "You won't scare me."

"Oh, I doubt that." Dean quipped.

Castiel smirked and walked over to Dean, holding out the cloth. He pressed it to the Nubian's cheek. Dean shied away from it, glaring at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It looked like it hurt when Balthasar slapped you," Castiel brought the cloth back to Dean's cheek. This time, he didn't move, but his stare was still cold and calculating. "You've already got a bruise forming. This will ease the pain."

Dean didn't say anything, but he looked down to the ground and relaxed his stance a little as he took the rag in his hand. Castiel smiled a bit as he turned back to the bucket.

"I'm impressed with what you did. I didn't think many Nubians could do things like that." He picked up the upturned bucket and brought it closer to Dean.

"My father has been training me from a young age. He always said 'It's good to know how to fight. There will always be monsters out there'." Dean shifted on his feet, eyeing Castiel as he picked up the other bucket and another rag. "Didn't think I'd ever have to face them."

Castiel laughed again. "You really are adorable."

"Excuse me?" Dean looked disgusted.

"The insults, the threats, the attempt to look bigger," Castiel stated fondly. "It's all because you can't deal with the fact that your old life is over. You belong to me now."

Dean growled, his glare intensifying. He stepped closer to Castiel and towered above him. Unfazed, Castiel handed him the other cloth. "Do you know what's going to happen now?"

"You tend to my sunburn?" He smirked and held out the other cloth.

Castiel shook his head and pushed the wash cloth back towards Dean. "You're going to wash my back." He took off his shirt and sat down on the other bucket. "It's been too long since I've felt clean."

Dean stood, affronted. Scowling, he moved to wet the other cloth and placed it on Castiel's back. He pressed it against his skin and moved it roughly, pressing his whole body into it. Castiel winced as he did it again.

"You really need to learn when you've lost the battle, Dean."

That seemed to be the last straw. Dean dropped both cloths and grabbed Castiel by the shoulders. He shoved him up against the edge of the canoe with most of his torso hanging over the Nile. Dean easily kept him pinned down with his weight. They glared fiercely at each other.

"Say one more word and you're having lunch with the crocodiles, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smirked evilly. "Even if you push me over, I can still shout. And my men will slaughter all of the filthy beasts below deck while they make you watch. Then you go on trial in Egypt for the murder of the greatest captain of all time. You'd die in one of the worst ways possible."

Dean seemed to think about this for a moment before he stood up and let Castiel stand with him. He rubbed his back gratefully. It was probably full of splinters after Dean held him down. He walked back over to the buckets.

"You're incredibly ignorant. You know that, right?" Castiel stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned back to face Dean, who was standing stiff as a board, fists shaking at his sides.

"Pardon me?"

Dean threw his head back and laughed. "You damn Egyptians. All of you think you're the talk of the town, the ones the gods chose to rule the world. All you do is conquer other lands and steal people's cultures. And you think that's honourable?" Dean stepped closer. "You know nothing about me. About Nubia. You believe that you can come in and we'll just roll over for you? You've taken _everything_ from us. Our wisdom, our wealth, our families. But do you know what you can never take?" Dean held himself above Castiel. "You will never take our spirit. We are strong. We are proud. We are not crap like _you_."

Dean was breathing heavily as he finished. Castiel looked him in the eye, unmoving. Dean stepped back to catch his breath. Castiel turned and picked up a rag and rewet hit, pressing it back onto Dean's cheek. It had to be sore after his little outburst. He then sat down on the bucket again, waiting patiently for Dean to clean him.

Just when he thought Dean was going to stand there like a petulant child, he felt a cold washcloth on his back. It still moved harshly along his skin, but not as hard as it was before. Way too soon, Dean threw the cloth back into the bucket and marched away.

"You're not finished." Castiel stood and followed him.

"Yes I am." Dean stopped and watched the waves go by. Castiel was about to say something when Dean was grabbed from behind. Balthasar shoved shackles onto his wrists and led him away, leaving the cloth on the ground.

Castiel picked it up and looked at it for a moment before he watched Balthasar throw Dean in line with the rest of the slaves.

"Sir!" The man at the mast shouted. "We will arrive in Egypt shortly!"

He nodded and ran to get his shirt back on before they were docked. He didn't want his older brother to see him half naked for some slave. He watched as his men assembled and prepared to go on shore. The boat rocked as it stopped.

"Land ho!"


	3. Chapter 3

As each of the slaves were hauled on shore, Castiel watched people fill the docks from the nearby market. There were nobles, peasants, guards, and even a few slaves. He stepped off the boat with the last of his men, immensely glad that he was finally home.

"Master!" A shout rang through the crowd. Castiel knew exactly who it was.

"Sam!" He greeted once the husky slave was in view. Sam approached with a smile on his face and patted him on the shoulder. "Have you kept my house in order?"

He huffed comically and stood taller. "What else would you expect from me?"

Castiel laughed and slapped his slave on the shoulder. "Nothing less, my friend. Absolutely nothing less."

Sam's smile faltered as he looked at the new batch of slaves. "I see you've captured more people."

"We have. This group, it feels different than others." He watched the new slaves squabble as they're halted on the docks. He looked back at Sam, who's face was frozen in shock. His warm smile wiped from his face as he stared at one of the new objects. Though at who, Castiel couldn't tell.

"Brother! You're home!" He looked back to see his older brother parting the crowd as he approached with a few of his men behind him. He walked up to Castiel with his arms wide. He piled him into his arms, not letting go.

Sam only edged in after a full minute. He cleared his throat. "Uh, Master, your fiance has been waiting to see you for some time. You should go see her."

"Sam, not now." Gabriel growled. "Go tend to some chamber pots or something."

Sam rolled his eyes and sneered. "Of course, oh great chief minister Gabriel, the most wondrous man in all of Egypt. Loved by the gods, the people, and himself." He dramatically bowed as the brothers separated. "I just thought it would be wise for my master to see his bride so as not to ruin his chances of becoming king." He drawled sarcastically.

Gabriel's eyes shrank to almost nothing when Sam said that. But he quickly recovered, patting his little brother on the shoulder. "Sam's right. You should go see the princess. She needs to see you, especially with the state her father's in."

Castiel cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean? What's wrong with the Pharaoh?"

Gabriel gasped sadly and clamped his hand over his heart. "The man is close to death, Castiel. His state has be deteriorating ever since you left. They're already building a new pyramid for him."

"Are you joking?" Castiel gasped. It was unbelievable that Chuck was on the brink of death. He had been there himself to bless Castiel's ship before it departed. He looked amazing then. But now, he was dying? It was just terrible.

"No. The Pharaoh has been getting really sick. No one's seen him in weeks." Gabriel looked forlornly at the palace. "Poor Meg. Sam is right. She needs you now more than ever."

Castiel followed his brother's gaze towards the home of Meg. He had known her since childhood, and they've been engaged for seven years. He knows that Meg still loves him, and he loves her. It's just… he can't go. Not now. He's got business to take care of.

"I will visit her. In due time. But for now, I've got some things I need to take care of." He looked back at Gabriel. "For now, I'll send her a gift." He approached the group of slaves standing nearby.

"Good idea, little brother." Gabriel stepped up beside him, smirking. He walked past Castiel to get a better look at the thralls.

"What a bunch we have here." He observed the people before him. He grabbed one of the men by the chin. "Strong men, and beautiful women. Just the kind of people we need. Guards!" His men came up behind him. "Take all the women to the palace kitchens. Take all the men to the copper mines. For some reason all the slaves keep dying down there."

The guardsmen grabbed all of the Nubian men and began dragging them towards the mines. The Nubians all squirmed and tried to get away. Castiel watched as Dean thrashed away from Gabriel's men unsuccessfully.

"Halt!" Castiel stepped in front of the guards.

"Castiel, what are you doing?" Gabriel asked. "We need more men in the mines!"

"These men," He gestured to the scrawny slaves. "They are clearly not built for the mines. They'll die in days. And dead slaves are worthless. We should take them all to the palace. They can be auctioned off to Egyptian nobles."

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to analyze his tactics. After a few minutes, he slowly nodded. "Alright. Take all the slaves to the palace. Let them be seen by the Pharaoh. If he wants, them, they'll stay. If not, prepare them for auction."

The guards hustled into actions as they hauled all of the slaves toward the palace. Castiel watched as they went before he intervened again.

"All except that one." He pointed to Dean, who was scowling remarkably. "Bring him to me."

Dean glared at him, locking eyes with him. He sneered once he was brought up to Castiel. "What do you want from me?"

Castiel didn't flinch at the Nubian's hateful tone. "Sam," He began as he took Dean's shackles off. "Take this man up to the palace and give him to Meg along with my condolences, and a promise that I'll see her as soon as I can." He grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him to Sam. "He's hers to do what she wants with." He heard Dean gulp.

"Uhm," Sam looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Yes, master." He walked up to Dean. "Please, uh, follow me."

Dean froze uncomfortably as he looked back at Sam. He must've been trying to figure out why Sam was obeying what he said. Sam smiled warmly at him, and Dean must've decided to go along with it. He and Sam walked away, through the crowd.

"I don't like that one." Gabriel muttered once they were out of sight. "He's too… rebellious."

"Then serving Meg will take him down a peg." Castiel looked down at Gabriel, who was grinning at him.

"Come, let us feast in your honour. Then we'll get to what needs done." He hooked an arm around his shoulders. "Let's let you relax a bit before getting back to work."

Castiel smiled and put an arm around his brother's shoulder as they walked. "Alright."

Man, was it good to be home.


	4. Chapter 4

Reluctantly, Dean followed the slave through the markets. How the _hell_ did he get caught by the Egyptian douche bags? He was leading a group of people away from that bastardly river when suddenly, they were attacked! And now he's a slave, no, a _gift_ to that captain's fiancee. Just how lucky is he?

And he couldn't believe this guy. Obeying Castiel's orders with no delay. Hell, he called him _master_. How could this asshole be like this? He wasn't even trying to resist. Like hell Dean would call anyone here 'master'. He'd rather get thrown in the dungeon. And with his luck, he will.

He walked behind the guy - what was his name? It started with an S - as he turned down a few side roads and led him to an alley. He couldn't even see the giant ass palace anymore. He looked around. They were completely alone.

The guy turned around and faced him, and he looked like a wreck. He was on the verge of tears. All of a sudden, the guy threw himself at Dean, but not the way he expected. The giant was _hugging_ him, really tight. He could feel his tears on his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy, what the hell are you doing?" Dean asked, trying to take a step back.

The guy quickly pulled away, but kept a tight grip on Dean's shoulders. Tears were flowing freely down his face. "You don't remember me, do you?" He mumbled sadly. Dean looked at him carefully, trying to remember something about who ever this was.

"Am I supposed to?" Dean asked, trying to sound more sympathetic.

"Well, I guess not," He pulled a hand away and wiped his face. "I was taken when we were little kids."

And suddenly, it hit him like a ton of stone. He felt tears gathering in his own eyes as he finally realized who was standing in front of him. Gone was the ten year old he mourned for for years, and in his place, and gargantuan man with the same gentle smile his little brother had.

"Sam?" Dean gasped out.

"Yeah," He went back in for a hug, and this time, Dean hugged him back, no less tightly. "It's me Dean."

"By the gods, Sammy," Dean stammered. "We thought we lost you for good. The day you disappeared, Dad and I thought you'd been murdered. I never thought I'd see you again."

"How do you think it felt for me?" Sam's voice shook. "Everyday, I wondered what happened to you guys. Whether you'd been captured, or worse,"

They embraced each other for another minute before pulling away. They still gripped each other's shoulders. Sam's face was wet, coated in a mixture of tears, sweat, and snot. Whereas Dean refused to let even a single tear fall.

"Gosh, Sammy, how'd you get so big? I've never seen a slave this huge," Dean smiled slightly.

Sam laughed. "When I was brought to the city, I was auctioned off immediately. Castiel's the one who bought me, and treated me really well. I ate the same food he did, wore decent fabrics from the market." Sam brought his hand to scrub at his face again. "When I asked him about it, he just said 'You were a child. You needed somewhat of a family'."

Dean's face fell. "You consider him family?"

"Yeah, I call him 'master'," Sam snorted sarcastically. "Of course not. He was just very kind to me when I needed it most."

"Good," Dean looked at him again. "It's good you got someone who treated _you_ well."

"Was he not nice to you?" Sam ran his hand gently over Dean's black eye. "Did he do this?"

Dean shook his head. "No. One of the soldiers did. Castiel actually pulled me out of it." He grimaced. "Then he started being a dick. He made me wash him, and while I did, he was saying things like 'the battle's over' and 'you belong to me now'."

"Believe me, he's one of the better ones." Sam rolled his eyes and dropped his arms. "We should get you to the Princess."

"Right, cause I'm her gift or whatever." He begrudgingly followed as Sam started walking. They walked right back to the busy streets and followed the road leading to the palace.

It seemed like the whole damn thing was only made of stone and gold. There were three towers, the one in the middle being the tallest. And windows, doors, or balconies were coated with gold with guards at every entrance. Along the pathway was lush grass and flowers. Dean had never seen any plants this beautiful in his life.

As they ascended the steps to the palace, one of the guards at the main entrance stepped forward, blocking them.

"State your purpose, slave," He bellowed.

"I am here to deliver a gift to Princess Meg from her fiance." Sam said with confidence. The guard stepped out of their way and they entered.

The front hallway was just as beautiful as the outside. They were rugs covering a lot of the floor, with stands holding gorgeous artifacts spread across the building. This, along with many paintings, stretched down the hallway they were walking down.

"Even though they're a bunch of assholes, the Egyptians have a great taste in interior design," He remarked. Sam laughed.

"Listen, before we go in, I have gotta talk to you about something." Sam stopped him at a part of the hallway where nobody else was.

"What?" Dean asked, grateful for the delay.

Sam looked uncomfortable. "We, uhm, the slaves, we've been, you know, doing what slaves typically do behind their master's backs," Dean knew this was code for 'trying to start a revolt'. "And, uh, we need a leader. Someone who knows how to lead. And…"

Dean blinked in surprise. "You want me to lead a revolt?"

"Yeah," Sam murmured.

"I can't. I don't want to draw any attention to myself. I've already got enough on my back. You want a leader, you do it. But there's no way I am."

"But Dean-"

"I said, no, Sam!" He started walking down the hall. "That's that!"

"But you have all the experience! You were the one who was trained to be king!" Dean stopped. He slowly looked back at his brother. "I was taken when I was a kid and trained to be a slave. You're 26, and have spent your whole life learning how to be a king." Sam stepped closer. "Please Dean, we need a leader. You're more fit for it than I am,"

"No," He saider again, though without any heat behind it. "I want to keep a low profile. And yes, I want to rebel, but I can't lead it! I'll follow anyone of us, but I'm not doing it. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam looked devastated. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself for a few moments. "Fine," He spat reluctantly.

Dean side-eyed him and stepped closer. "Do not tell anyone what I am. Please, I don't want people looking at me like those Christians look at Jason, or whatever his name is. I'm not anyone's saviour. All I am anymore is a slave."

Sam pouted, but nodded. He didn't say a word as he took Dean to the Princess' chamber. Dean wanted to make him feel better, cheer him up, but he knew there was nothing he could do without Sam looking at him like a depressed puppy. So he ignored the sad look Sam gave him and let himself be presented as an object for someone's amusement.


	5. Chapter 5

"Your majesty, there was nothing I could do!" The slave stammered.

"Don't give me any excuses. How could you have let this happen?!"

"It was my mistake, your highness. It won't happen again,"

"What does that do to help me now?"

"Your majesty, please understand-"

"How on Earth could I understand you ruining my favourite ballroom gown!" Meg shouted at the shivering girl. "I told you to was it so it would be perfect for my fiance's return, and now look at it! It's smaller!"

"This fabric is very difficult to wash, my princess. I couldn't stop it from shrinking," She bowed her head. "Please forgive me, your highness,"

Meg frowned and crossed her arms as she stared at the girl at her feet. After a moment, she sighed. "Fine," She said begrudgingly. "But next time this happens, you pay with your head."

The slave tried to hold in a scream as she scrambled to her feet and retreated. Meg groaned and sat on her couch, holding her dress in her hands. Her frown deepened as she dropped it and laid back.

How was she going to face Castiel without looking beautiful?

She suddenly heard a pair familiar, heavy footsteps. Oh, great. What now?

"Sam?" She said without looking up. "I thought I told you not to bother me,"

"And I wouldn't be, my lady, if I wasn't bringing you a gift from your fiance."

Meg sat up, shocked. "What?" She asked.

Sam laughed. "Castiel has a gift for you, your highness. He sent me to bring it to you," She turned around to see Sam walking up the stairs with another man behind him. This man was stout, with a hard expression on his face. No doubt he was just brought in.

"Why didn't he come to deliver it himself?" She asked. It was very unlike Castiel to skip out on her.

"He said to give you his best," Sam stated as he stopped. "But he had some things to take care of,"

Meg narrowed her eyes at him and stepped forward. She glanced up at the behemoth, pinning him with a glare. "Where is my unicorn, Sam?"

Sam gulped, nervous. "As soon as he docked, Gabriel came in and whisked him away,"

"What a surprise," She rolled her eyes as she stepped away. "Gabriel's always been so controlling over him, it's no wonder why I never see Castiel."

"With all due respect, ma'am, you will be able to see him tonight at the feast," Sam smiled. "It won't be forever,"

"Yes, but, it's been almost _two years_ since we last spoke. So forgive me if I want to see him as soon as I can,"

"My apologies." Sam bowed his head. "But please, allow me to present his gift to you," He stepped aside to reveal the stoic man. Meg raised an eyebrow as he stepped forward and bowed.

"You," She said to her gift. "You're about the tenth slave that's been offered as a gift to me." She assessed him closely. He looked like he was nothing special. "What makes you different from all the rest?"

He responded instantly. "Back home, in Nubia, my mother showed me a way to dye fabrics in a way to make them glow," He slowly stood up and smiled. "I can make them in such a way to match your eyes,"

"Great," Meg rolled her eyes. "Another handmaiden,"

"Then there's the added bonus of me being able to carry all your things when you want to go shopping," The slave subtly flexed his muscles.

Meg snorted. "So you've got a sense of humour." She looked at him thoughtfully. "I like it."

"There's plenty more where that came from," He smirked.

."What's your name?" She asked as she sat down next to her dress.

"Dean."

"Okay, Dean," Meg smirked at him. "Do you know how to sew?"

"Why yes, my lady, I do."

"A male slave who knows his fabrics," She stood up, dress in hand. Meg smirked. "Sam, you're dismissed. Please return to Castiel and tell him to look his best for me tonight."

"As you wish, your majesty," Sam bowed again before jogging out of her chamber.

"Dean, follow me." She began walking towards her closet.

"Pardon my asking, princess, but why did you ask about my tailoring abilities?"

"Well, Dean, I do have a bit of a taste in fashion, and none of my handmaidens can fix any little accidents. So I'm glad you do. It will make you very useful." She explained as they entered the closet's foyer.

"I'm glad to hear it." Dean muttered.

It was in here that she felt most at home. Every wall was adorned with her clothes, sorted by colour. Right now, they were walking past all of her red outfits.

"I've never seen so many dresses in one place," Dean mumbled.

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Meg said as she stopped in front of her scarps bin. "You'll be in here for most of your time. Right now, I need you to repair my dress for tonight. It needs to be sized up." She handed Dean the dress in her hand. "I have high expectations for you, Dean." She smiled as she walked away. She was going to put him to good use.

* * *

Dean looked at the dress. It was silver, with a lot of gold embroidery. And it looked about two sizes too small for Meg. He's never seen anything this extravagant, not even on his father. He wondered how rich these people were compared to his family.

He sat down on the stool in the corner and examined the box of fabric Meg directed him wasn't any silver that matched the colour of the dress, which was a little worrying. But Dean relaxed when he spotted some gold that matched the embroidery. It could work.

He grabbed a needle and thread and got to work fixing the dress for the princess. He's never been more grateful for his mother, who taught him how to sew. 'It's a skill everyone should have.' she used to say. And he was lucky he had that skill. Otherwise he'd be thrown into the mines. Or whatever else Castiel had in mind.

Dean shook his head at the thought and tried to focus all of his attention on the dress, ignoring the small voice of rebellion in his head.


End file.
